


for this time and space

by justscribbling



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 13:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2111229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justscribbling/pseuds/justscribbling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Established Olicity where Felicity asks Oliver an intimate question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for this time and space

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted as 'sofa conversations' on Tumblr; slightly proofed and edited here. 
> 
> While this oneshot refers to sexual content, there is no actual sexual content. (It is very weird that this serves both as an apology and a reassurance.)

They sat together on her sofa, or, well, Oliver did. She was curled up on the other end, her back braced against a cushioned armrest, knees drawn up, and her toes just slightly tucked under his thigh. He was eying the files displayed on her laptop, on the coffee table, while she eyed him.

"Oliver?"

"Hm?"

"Did you ever-- have you ever--" Felicity took a breath. "Were you ever into BDSM?"

If she hadn't gotten his full attention before, she got it now.

His eyebrows flew up as he looked at her. His jaw tensed and un-tensed, tiny movements of his mouth working around the questions and possible responses she knew were filtering through his brain -- because God knew she'd just given him the opportunity for so very many possible reactions with her question that he was probably having a mental parkour obstacle run. Eventually, though, she watched him slowly file them away (for now) and consider her carefully.

He still arched a brow at her-- one that said he was definitely going to follow up on this--as he leaned toward her and visibly thought over his answer, sifting through his thoughts and memories.

He had told her early on he would never lie to her, and that he wanted her to ask him anything--that even if the only honest answer he could give her was that he wasn't ready to answer her, he still wanted her to ask, and to keep asking him. It was just one of the ways Oliver showed her how much he wanted her to be a part of his life; how much he wanted to give her, of his life, of himself; how much he was committed to her, to them.

"Well, I guess yes and no," he finally said. He settled back into the sofa, and took a hold of her ankles, tugging them across his lap so she could straighten her legs. A corner of his mouth deepened into a non-smile. "Yes, in the way of being young and stupid about sex, but obviously convinced of anything but. I'll admit to a very foolish young Oliver thinking that a couple of knots, some very dirty talk, and a lot of posturing qualifies as being extremely sexy." His mouth curled up at both corners. "But as I've learned a thing or two since then… No."

"So… you haven't tried.. I guess, since… or during…"

"No." He sounded wry. "It would have probably been a little too close to…" His voice trailed off, but she understood. He hadn't told her everything, but he'd shared enough for her to know there had been torture and pain and-- oh, crap, she thought, why hadn't she realized that with his past, BDSM would probably be something that hit too close to home with those memories.

She jerked her head into a nod, conveying comprehension and what she hoped was satisfaction to her curiosity.

"Right, right. That makes sense. Okay, I just..You know. Curious." She hand-waved at her temple with a light laugh. "Doesn't stop sometimes. Makes these huge flying leaps to connect two things barely related to each other. Funny story, one time I --"

"Felicity."

"--went from getting my coffee to thinking about cows." She gave him a little helpless smile. "Cows. Although, 'cause, you know, I take milk in my coffee, and milk comes from cows, so I guess, huh… that's not really the best example…"

Oliver grinned, a knowing and patient grin, as he waited her out, waited for the trail of words to stop. Which it did. Especially under that stupid grin of his. Never mind that just that morning the realization that he grinned a little more freely had made her feel happy and content. She sighed, resigned to what was coming.

"So, why did you ask about my possible past forays into BDSM?"

She side-eyed him before she reached out and smacked his very firm forearm. He didn't even bat an eyelash. "You don't have to look so very pleased with yourself, Oliver. You didn't do anything. And I haven't either, for that matter! It wasn't a proposition!"

Oliver laughed, almost as if startled into it. "Felicity, I'm just asking what brought it on."

"But you're already thinking of all the possible answers!"

"I sorry, I can't help that," he said, his grin widening, almost smug now, and he had the gall to raise a palm in mock surrender. She huffed at him.

"Felicity." His tone gentled. "You know you can ask me anything… and tell me anything."

And she did. She angled her head to one shoulder, studying him through a slanted gaze, and half sighed, half smiled at him.

"I know. Right. So. … I don't know how it started," she began, and her head snapped up. "The thoughts!-- I don't know how the thoughts on this started, geez, I am not confessing a BDSM past here, Oliver, I can see what you're thinking!"

She could also see him bite back another grin, and she would have smacked him again, but her mind was already processing the rest of her answer.

"Oh, I remember now, it was that silly trailer."

Another arched brow and this time it had a genuinely quizzical quality. It amused her a little that she could decipher his micro expressions to such a degree.

"The new movie that's coming out," she said, "The one that is supposedly about BDSM, but knowing Hollywood, is probably far from--oh, never mind. The point is, the topic of BDSM came up, and I thought about it, thought about the dynamics of submission and dominance, and how it ultimately boiled down to control." Her fingers ticked off mental points idly in the air, marking the progression of her thoughts.. "And that led me to think about you. In terms of your self control, I mean. Not about sex, but control."

She paused, checking on him--on how he was taking her explanation. A faint lingering trace of humor still pulled on his lips--almost like a forgotten start of a smile-- but his eyes were focused and attentive. Thoughtful.

"It's the control," she said carefully. "You wear it like an armor, you cling to it almost. And I get it, I do. I just… I just think you…wished you didn't have to sometimes. You've alluded to it before. As necessary as you feel you need to have control, I think maybe… maybe you want to let go of that control, to just be. To be free, in a way."

All lingering trace of humor had vanished from his expression now, and he only stared at her. His gaze grew almost sharp with intent the more she spoke, and that only made more words tumble out of her.

"But of course, that's scary. Not that I'm saying that's one of your fears-- I mean, I wouldn't blame you-- I mean, it would be understandable, I mean--" She drew a sharp breath and squinted her eyes shut. She kept her eyes closed, brutally silencing all the various trains of thoughts and words running through her head, and focused on one thought. The thought that had spurred this entire conversation…

"So I wondered, what if… what if you could entrust that control to someone else, to someone you trusted…for, you know, that space and time."

Very gingerly, she opened her eyes. Oliver still stared at her, with the same intensity as before, and he looked … he looked as if he hadn't even moved, hadn't even breathed.

"…Oliver?"

At his name, his eyes shuttered briefly and a sharp exhale and inhale of breath rushed through his lips. A slow smile surfaced as he looked at her, tinged with wonder and love, and he slid her feet off his lap.

"You," he said softly, twisting his body and drawing up a knee on the sofa. "Are." He moved up, bracing his hands on the sofa's armrest on both sides of her, until his body hovered over hers. " _Quite_ remarkable."

A corner of her mouth was kicked up by the memory. "Thank you for remarking on it."

He lower his head to hers. "And… if you were propositioning, which I'm not saying you are," he murmured, "But if you were… There is no one I would trust with my control but you, Felicity. I'd trust you with that… I'd want that. And more."

She looked up at him, studying him, searching him and found.. Him. All of him, laid bare and vulnerable for her, trusting her, wanting her, loving her. And she loved him. She loved him so very much.

"So…" Felicity drew her hands up, capturing his face and drew him close until their faces were a breath apart. Her lips brushed his in a whispered verbal kiss.

"I'm propositioning."

 


End file.
